Sleeping with the Fishes
by CharacterDriven
Summary: Based on a prompt, "Sleep with whoever you want. The more the merrier!" Kate's line in Pandora: she's still with Josh, but jealous of Castle's ex-muse. He's already helped her escape a watery death at the bottom of the Hudson. Well-played, Kate! Characters & basic scenario belong to AW Marlowe & ABC. So does my gratitude. Thanks to Lou for the invaluable advice!


**Sleeping With the Fishes**

Sophia's presence had certainly mucked things up, and now things were even muckier, and murkier. Beckett's car, having been rammed by a mysterious driver, was sinking rapidly into the muck of the Hudson River, Castle was wishing he could disappear through the floor, or the window, maybe squeeze through the air vents, taking Beckett with him. Before the roof sank below the water line, he remembered to breathe from the diaphragm, deeply, to oxygenate his blood – but not so deeply as to hyperventilate.

At least he could get around. Her seatbelt stuck, and the auto windows unresponsive, he was trying to get her gun out of the trunk to blow the lock and the windshield. He hinged the driver's side back seat forward, opening a narrow passage into the trunk, his long arm reaching around blindly for her weapons safe. It was too far back. Fucking American cars and their cavernous trunk space! Instead he needed the wider gap from the passenger section. Up went the driver's side seat-back, down came the passenger.

_ "Move carefully. Patience. Panic slows you down." When had he said that to Alexis? During a home fire drill. "Find the extinguisher. Pull the pin. Pull the trigger. Take your time. Be thorough." _  
Water was coming in, sloshing over the seats now. It was cold and smelly, and he worried briefly about swimmer's itch microbes and brain-eating amoebas but decided to let that go. He decided not to bring up the Mythbusters special, although they'd jokingly compared notes about it at one time or another. If he – if they - got out of this alive he was gonna send those guys a case of good scotch, though Adam seemed more the beer type.

Time moved too slowly, and too fast; the epitome of "eerily calm." They were each trying to stay calm, each cooler than the other, their voices oddly flat and neutral, fighting the adrenaline of stark terror. He'd heard Beckett get more upset about running out of wasabi paste before her sushi was finished. At this rate, she was going to drown, and he still had time to get himself out before... no. Not without her, alive and kicking and snarking and complaining.  
The lights didn't go on in the trunk; the door was closed. Of course he had a waterproof pen light on his key chain. Of course he did. He got the penlight out. Squeezed into the dark trunk, fighting as the water floated him up, hating his buoyancy. He kicked his shoes off, feeling them drag heavily at his feet.  
His mind raced. _"Don't waste air. No talking, no cheerful quips to lighten the mood. Definitely no swearing. Screaming completely out of the question." _  
Got the gun. The car tilted up, a bubble of air in the trunk, escaping in bubbles through the frame. He took a last gulp. Got back to Beckett after the water had already closed over her head. Forcing himself to stay calm, he first shot the seatbelt mechanism. Beckett didn't even twitch. She was just floating in the water, still held down by the wheel and shoulder belt, all struggle gone, her face finally peaceful but, horribly, not asleep. He'd never seen her really sleeping, not properly in a bed. The kind of normal sleep that normal people have when they're just tired. He wanted to live to see that. She hadn't died and lived to die like this. Not again.

Regret panged through him and he pushed that aside as he pulled her out of her seat, disentangled her arm from the shoulder belt. His head rang and buzzed, desperate for oxygen.  
Something popped up from under the seat, nearly smacking him in the face as his lungs were screaming – he almost could have laughed. It was an empty water bottle. No. _A bottle full of air_. He snatched it as it sped by, sheer insane luck. He exhaled stale C02, held the bottle upside down, placed his lips over it and sucked its contents into his lungs for all he was worth. The lightweight plastic collapsed. Not enough, but enough for now.

He tried to shield Beckett, aimed and fired at the windshield. He'd expected it to cut them to ribbons, under the weight of tons of water, but no, the water pressure inside had equalized and the car was tilted a bit forward, so the safety glass just sort of fell down. They weren't even scratched.

When the windshield broke, Beckett spasmed, looked around wildly, screamed bubbles. He grabbed her hard, she saw him only by the pale bluish light of his silly little flashlight, and he saw the terror in her eyes. How did he get himself to smile, reassuring her? How did he cup her face in his hands, press his lips against hers and blow that precious air into her lungs? How did she take it in? How did she kick off her shoes and climb out the windshield with him, how did he never let her go when the rear-view mirror snagged on her jacket?

The air pressure on their ears was far nastier than that at the bottom of a 12-foot dive pool. Castle wondered if he might lose the hearing in one ear; it felt like someone was stabbing him through the back of his skull with a knitting needle.

He was glad to see that she'd kicked off her boots, somewhere in the interim, probably while she was waiting for him to find the gun. She shed her jacket as well, the less drag, the better.

They pushed off, swam for all they were worth. Castle had a higher fat-to-muscle ratio than Kate, who was a bit too thin. She was a sinker, damn it. But the buoyancy he'd cursed 42 seconds ago was now a blessing. And he was strong. He made her hold onto his belt and while he wished he was wearing suspenders, it was doable. She was trying to kick to assist him. It was tough to coordinate that. He towed her up as she clung to him, and in the bright, shifting light overhead, he saw a solid circle appear as if by magic from heaven, haloed by splitting light. A life preserver. He struggled up, closer and closer. He heard the slow thrum of a motor, saw the shield-shaped silhouette of a lifeboat's hull. Its motor stilled, but its wake still arced out like the tail of a comet.

Almost there. His hand breached the surface, he flailed and linked an arm over the life ring and clung desperately, gulping air. Beckett grabbed at him, out of air again and panicking, She tried to crawl up his body, pulling him under without even meaning to. They bobbed back under again as she lost her calm, so close, so very close to the surface. He did a horrible thing, calculated, necessary. He grabbed a handful of her hair, then he kicked her, not taking the time to hate himself for it, his legs stronger than her arms, and she shot away in the river current. But he kept hold of her hair, hauled her up, and pushed her away so that she wouldn't kill him before he could save her. She broke surface, choking. He deliberately ducked under, shoving the life saver at her, and she grabbed instinctively. Another one hit the water behind him. He backed away from Beckett's reach as she clung to the first one, coughing and gasping. He could hear people yelling, see lights scudding on the water.

There was so much water in his ears that he barely made out the cacophony. A passing garbage scow pilot had seen it their car hit the water, float a precious minute, then sink. They'd had to guess a little, unable to see the car in the filthy water. Good guess.

Castle was only aware of individual things, as if he had tunnel vision. First the life preservers, then the boat. Hands like leather, arms like steel, hauling him aboard out of the water. He'd lost track of Beckett and almost struggled away, going back for her, but they restrained him and showed him: she was already there in the life boat, breathing, alive. Beckett threw up over the side and crouched there, her forehead on her elbow, gripping the hull for all she was worth, coughing. A burly crewman, red-faced with hair to match, gave the two of them mothy old wool army blankets.

The little gray man at the helm stared at them both. "What the hell just happened?"

Rick said, "How did you know we were down there?"  
Little Gray said, "I saw a big black car ram you into the Hudson."

Big Red said, "Yeah. What the hell?"

Rick glanced over at Beckett. She was still recovering both breath and dignity. He spoke to the two men quietly. "Did you get a license plate? You see anyone driving the car?"  
"No."  
"Good. Whatever you thought you saw, don't tell a soul. It's classified."

"But the cops..."  
"You didn't see a thing. You heard a splash. You thought we went over all on our own."

Big Red started in: "But..."  
Rick persisted, quietly, teeth gritted. " They don't like witnesses, and if this was an inside job, your testimony won't help us. Could get you killed."  
The little man nodded soberly. "Ok, buddy. Your girlfriend ok?"  
"I'm fine," Beckett rasped, not wasting the breath to correct him.  
She rose unsteadily and Big Red helped back to the bench where Castle sat. She was shivering violently, and he opened up his blanket like a wing. He said, "I'm freezing," although it was her lips that had gone blue. This effectively took her pride off the hook.  
She nodded, and sat close, his arm around her shoulders. She looked stiff and shocked. Castle gave her a little squeeze. "Guess you can kiss those Jimmy Choos goodbye."

She shook her head remorsefully. "They were Frye."  
Castle winced. "Tragic."

A smile ghosted across her face. "They kind of hurt my feet anyway."

Shame crept up in him. He'd kicked her. Pushed her away. "How's your hair?"  
She genuinely smiled, a radiance that broke through his post-adrenaline fog. She took a corner of her blanket and mopped at his head, causing his hair to stand up in most if not all directions. "Better than yours, for once."  
They heard sirens; the Port Authority boat coming from one direction, and the police and a firetruck from another. Then an ambulance.

Little Grey steered the lifeboat toward the dock. Big Red set to work coiling up the life preserver lines.  
"That was pretty heroic," Beckett said to the boatmen.

"Yeah," Castle agreed, remembering his manners. "Thank you."

Little Gray said, "Heh. It'll give us stories to tell at the bar for years. By the time it rolls back to you, it'll be a school bus full of cheerleaders we rescued."

Big Red looked around hopefully. "Cheerleaders?"

Little Gray said, "Just kidding, Red."

Rick looked askance at Beckett. She gave him a sidelong glance, a shy smile.  
"Thank you," she whispered.  
He couldn't speak, overcome by her aliveness. He thought, but couldn't say: _"Never die on me again. Ever."_ He swallowed, and nodded, and looked over at the dock. Rick lowered his arm as the boat came about alongside the dock stairs, and Beckett arose to disembark. 

***  
After the case had been wrapped, Kate took a day off, and Castle as well. She felt his absence acutely all day, but she knew he'd been through an emotional roller coaster, and didn't want to intrude. Her angry words rang shamefully in her own heart, and presumably in his: "Sleep with whoever you want."  
He'd held his tongue, despite that she'd humiliated him in front of Lanie and his own daughter. She'd seen him looking at her with Josh, seen the look of veiled envy, or maybe even longing, on his face. And she remembered the blast of air into her lungs, the breath coming through his lips to hers. Half his own air, waiting for her to come back to him, the sweetest breath she'd ever taken. It crossed her mind that while Josh had actually been inside of her body in a very pleasurable way, and he'd taken excellent care of her, making sure she didn't come down with post-drowning pneumonia or ear infections or pinkeye, on some level he was dispensable. But Castle was part of her. Truly in her veins. And she literally would be dead without him, several times over.

She texted Castle. "Sleep with whoever you want. Excepting fishes."  
He texted back. "Whomever. Dependent clause. Coffee?"  
"Feel free to sleep in. Noon debriefing."

"Prefer boxers. Noon de-boxering."

She rolled her eyes. From fifteen blocks away, over the text etherwebs, he could hear them rolling like dice. He read her text. "You can run in those things?"

He smirked. " ;-) not right now."

When Kate arrived at work the next morning, she found a little gift bag on her desk. The bag was a metallic blue, and lined with clear iridescent plastic, the sort of thing Alexis might have saved from a childhood mermaid party. Kate smirked. A water theme. The bag contained four items and a card.  
The card was a sympathy card:

"_Deepest Sympathy  
On the unfortunate passing of your car. And your boots."  
Sincerely,_

_ Richard Castle  
_

Folded into the card was a typed list._  
May you never have need of this handy kit. Contains: _  
1) One empty plastic water bottle, capped, for emergency breathing  
2) One roll of candy shaped like life savers. Got cheap at Latvian market. Taste like pond scum & wintergreen. Good prep for Hudson swimming sessions, mouth to mouth, etc.  
3) Nifty device with a embedded seat-belt cutter and peen hammer, designed to break out of a car just in case it ever falls into the water. I'd tell you to keep it in your purse but you don't carry one, so never drive in anyone else's car. Except mine. I now have one in each, mounted under steering wheel  
4) Space blanket. Because space.  
5) "The Worst Case Scenario Handbook". The copy in my guest bathroom is worn out. We have covered Page 36 (and a few others). Not exactly my idea of a bucket list.

Kate opened her WCS handbook to the inside cover. She found a rather crude hand-drawn cartoon of her submerged car. And in that car, two little cartoon fish, frowning.

Underneath was a caption: _"Lonely. SOOO lonely." _

Smiling, Kate arose from her desk and walked toward the break room, where she could hear someone making a latte.


End file.
